


Nothing's Changed

by sleepymccoy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awake the Snake (Good Omens), Bastard!Aziraphale, First Kiss, M/M, Pinching, but theres dashes of bastardry there, crowley's just kinda coming to terms with stuff, it's july yall!! time for another lockdown special write up, lockdown - Freeform, not too much really hes kinda stressed for most of it, teen up rating cos i probably swear at some point in the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymccoy/pseuds/sleepymccoy
Summary: Crowley hit the snooze button on the first of July. When he finally wakes, a week late, Aziraphale is unimpressed.Aziraphale keeps mentioning that nothing's changed, but Crowley grows steadily suspicious that while he was asleep, perhaps, something has changed. He's right, of course.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 305





	Nothing's Changed

Crowley gave it up. He wasn't getting back to sleep. He really oughtn't anyway, it was a few days after his alarm and he was stressed.

He knew why he was stressed, of course, but he wasn't admitting it and so couldn't think the words lest it be acknowledged. 

Despite pretending not to know why, he did allow his instincts to encourage him to call Aziraphale. His stress seemed to point that way. And he couldn't fall back asleep now, not like this.

He found his phone under a pillow, volume down with the alarm still trying to go off. A grumble, a rearrangement of long limbs, and a swipe of the screen later and Crowley was listening to a too familiar dial tone.

He hoped nothing had changed.

Aziraphale picked up. "Hello, we're closed!"

Crowley smiled. "How's things?" he asked. His throat croaked slightly so he spent a moment clearing it.

Once his throat felt clear he noticed the silence on the other end of the line.

"You slept in," Aziraphale said icily.

Crowley paused and went over the words in his mind, listening to the tone again. “Are you annoyed with me?”

“No,’ Aziraphale snapped.

“Right,’ Crowley doubted. He flung out of bed and waltzed into the main room, getting the coffee machine going with a wave. Aziraphale was so quiet Crowley could swear he felt a cold breeze through the phone. 

“Any changes?” Crowley asked.

“None whatsoever,” Aziraphale said, sounding very terse. “The virus is here. I am in my bookshop. The days continue to roll by, my dear.”

“Definitely not annoyed, huh?” 

“Certainly.”

Crowley turned the TV on, muting it quickly. “All right,” he said, definitely not believing Aziraphale now. 

“Two hundred thousand in a day?” Crowley asked, repeating the stats on the banner along the bottom of the news. “Shit, that's really settled in.”

“It has rather.”

“Well, okay,” Crowley sighed. He turned the TV off. “But you’re okay?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. Frosty and icy and cold. Then he hummed and asked, in a much kinder tone, “And you?”

“Well, I've been asleep,” Crowley pointed out.

“I noticed,” Aziraphale said dryly.

“I only slept in a week,” Crowley snapped, “give me a break.”

Crowley could hear the eyebrow raise, the pout, the fucking sparkle of innocence. He snarled at the sound.

“You ought to come over,” Aziraphale said, not pleading exactly, but simpering. “I have coffee.”

Crowley wouldn’t be so easy. He may have famed Hamlet under the influence of similar weapons, but he wouldn’t be so easily got now. “Oh, is that allowed now?” he asked as rudely as he could manage. “Things are worse, TV says so, you reckon-”

“Come over or don't,” Aziraphale shouted, “I don't give a damn!”

Crowley jumped as the line went dead. 

Alright.

  
He’d played that wrong. 

He grabbed his coat, sculled his coffee, and left. 

  
  
  
-*-

“Oh look at that, you've stayed awake for me! How kind,” Aziraphale said upon opening the door.

Crowley tipped his head forwards and glared over the top of his glasses. “Shut up,” he drawled. 

Aziraphale looked the same as ever. Same coat, same worn vest, same ever-backlit hair. That was a relief. Crowley’s stress faded at last.

“Come in,” Aziraphale said almost grudgingly. “I've got a cup waiting.”

Crowley hummed eagerly as he entered. He identified the angel mug sitting untouched by his usual seat and took a generous mouthful. “You're the best.”

Aziraphale looked doubtful.

Crowley sat, billowing familiar dust as he did. “Shop looks the same,” he observed.

Aziraphale sniffed in displeasure and sat in his usual. “Yes, nothing's changed,” he said smartly.

“So you’ve said,” Crowley muttered into his cup.

“Well, it's true.”

Crowley rested his feet on Aziraphale's coffee table, enjoying the disapproving sound he made when he did. Indeed, nothing had changed. The world may be falling apart but his angel was here. The world had gone through it before, they'd come out the other side, but for Crowley all that mattered was that Aziraphale didn't buy new clothes until he absolutely had to and he kept frowning when Crowley dirtied his furniture.

"Look at you," Crowley said fondly. Aziraphale frowned at him but it eased into a smile quickly. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows to encourage him to explain himself.

"Same clothes," Crowley explained. "Same hair."

"What's your point?"

"It's my favourite thing. You're so solid. You never change. Brilliant. It's the best thing I could hope to wake up to."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Fine, I forgive you for sleeping in."

Crowley grinned. "Oh, did you miss me?"

"In fact," Aziraphale bristles, "I found just how happy I am without you."

"Och," Crowley devalued, "we knew that already."

"I certainly didn't. New reaches of joy. Arcing through me with abandon."

Crowley grinned, he liked Aziraphale’s sarcasm. It felt comfortable. “I call bullshit,” he teased.

Aziraphale leaned back in his chair and had the decency to look chagrined. “Of course I missed you,” he mumbled, “you ridiculous, useless fool. And nothing's changed.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. Was that three times Aziraphale had volunteered that nothing had changed? Five times? 

“Angel,” Crowley said fondly, feeling very sure he would be told off for asking but meaning to do so regardless. “Forgive me for asking, but. Has something changed, perhaps?”

“No!”

Crowley nearly laughed, but there was something in Aziraphale’s eye that kept him quiet. He did grin, though. It was funny, after all. “Quite right, silly question.”

Aziraphale stretched his fingers, splaying his hands out, then grabbed the edge of his seat's arms tightly. “I've realised something,” he said tensely. 

Crowley stayed still. On some occasions Aziraphale was a bit like an easily spooked bird. So Crowley tried to not spook him. 

Aziraphale stood busily, tugging his vest straight and fluttering his hands. “I made more coffee for you,” he said.

“You realised you made more- ?” Crowley repeated as Aziraphale fled. Crowley sighed. Must’ve spooked him somehow. 

His cup was only half empty but upon his return Aziraphale poured it to full without hesitation. Crowley muttered his thanks.

“No,” Aziraphale said. Crowley frowned, grappling for a way to withdraw his thanks if it so offended. 

“Two months ago, I realised,” Aziraphale said. “A realisation's not a change.”

Crowley nodded absently, agreeing somewhat automatically as he thought about it. “Guess it depends what you do with your realisation,” he said slowly. “Are you- are you doing something? With it?”

Aziraphale sniffed unpleasantly. “I expect not.”

Crowley wondered vaguely if he might go insane. It was too early for this. He had a sip of coffee but it didn’t settle him, so instead he snapped at Aziraphale. “Could you maybe stop having a bloody go at me over it, then?”

“I have not been.”

“You have! I've been awake fifteen minutes and you've yelled at me three times!”

Aziraphale’s face went through a few emotions too quickly for Crowley to follow. But, “Balderdash,” he said, settling on a regretful and uncomfortable expression.

Crowley sighed mightily and settled back into the couch. He picked a book across the room and glared at it, disagreeing with what he was about to say. “I missed you too, alright?” he grumbled. He kept glaring at the book but from the corner of his eye he saw Aziraphale look up. “So that's- that's out there, I've said that now.”

“You were unconscious,” Aziraphale said. 

Fair point. “Still,’ Crowley muttered. He kept his eyes trained on the book. “I can be lonely. Shut up, I'm not getting into it.”

“I realised you're in love with me,” Aziraphale whispered. “You have been for a while.”

Okay.

Well.

Okay, then. 

Crowley considered refuting it, but if Aziraphale knew then Aziraphale knew. And he remembered how it stung to hear Aziraphale say he didn’t like Crowley when Crowley knew it was a lie. He wouldn’t throw that lie back at Aziraphale now. Even if his heart was threatening to give out from panic. 

Clocks ticked quietly in the shop. With each tick Crowley grew more anxious, the longer he left it hanging the harder it would be to hide from. His silence was confirmation. The book began to shiver in fear. 

“That doesn't count, you don't know that,” Crowley said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and drank some coffee. “S'a guess at best.”

“And I'm in love with you. I noticed that, too,’ Aziraphale said more evenly. “That threw me for quite a loop.”

The clocks seemed louder this time. Crowley’s gaze left the book and fell to the coffee pot Aziraphale had left on the table for him. He could feel his eyebrows furrowing as if he were thinking, but not a thing went through his head. 

“Oh,” Crowley said. 

“Can I kiss you?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley turned to face him, still not fully understanding. Aziraphale was leaning forward in his chair and looking very worried. 

“I'd- I'd like to,” Aziraphale whispered. 

Well. Crowley was floored. 

But the answer was easy enough. 

"Yeah," Crowley breathed.

Aziraphale stood and walked to him. He sat slowly on the couch as Crowley watched. 

Crowley waited. Then, sure enough, as promised, Aziraphale kissed him. 

As soon as their lips met Crowley knew he was dreaming. But it was lovely so he tried to not wake up. He kissed back, hands going to Aziraphale's shoulder, his knee, curling and pressing into his chest, his thigh. There were hands on his back, pulling him close, in his hair, gentle, tender. And lips moving far more competently than usual. 

Crowley's dreams usually had a more subservient Aziraphale, one who needed to be led to kissing, shown the ropes. This time he seemed to know what he was doing. It was far nicer, Crowley's knees were growing weak from it already.

They leaned apart as Aziraphale gasped in air. Their eyes met. Aziraphale's were crinkled in a smile. 

"This dream had a weird start," Crowley admitted in a whisper.

Aziraphale's smile grew. He kissed Crowley lightly on the corner of his mouth. "How's that?" he asked.

"You don't usually yell at me so much in my kissing dreams."

Aziraphale's hand moved to Crowley's neck and pain shot through him from his jaw. The bastard had pinched him! And hard.

"Fucking hey!" Crowley shouted. He rubbed his jaw where it hurt. "Ow!" he said pointedly. 

"You're awake," Aziraphale said sternly.

"Jeeze-" Crowley complained, but he was interrupted by another burst of pain from him chest. ""Ow! Stop that!"

He whacked Aziraphale's hand away.

"Do you agree?" Aziraphale asked. "You're awake?"

"Fine," Crowley grumbled, although he was more thinking about the unexpected pain simmering in him. 

"Then kiss me, Crowley."

That got his attention. Crowley's head raised suddenly, meeting Aziraphale's eyes again. He felt very awake and that wasn't making sense. "What?"

Aziraphale pinched his thigh. It didn't hurt so badly, so Crowley kept his focus on Aziraphale's face.

"Kiss me," Aziraphale ordered. "I love you."

"I-"

"It's barely even a change, my dear, it'll feel natural in no time," Aziraphale added.

"You're-"

Crowley raised his hand to Aziraphale's chest.

Aziraphale took his hand in both of his, one wrapping around his wrist, the other tangling with his fingers. "What's this?" he asked.

"Pinch me again," Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale did so, pinching the soft skin of his wrist mercilessly.

Crowley snatched his hand back. "Fucking Christ!" 

"Language," Aziraphale admonished.

"Piss off with that attitude, you're like a vice," Crowley grumbled. But he felt sure he was awake.

"You asked me to!" Aziraphale said.

Crowley leaned in and kissed him. Aziraphale laughed into his mouth, then pulled him close and kissed him back.

"I love you," Crowley whispered.

"My dear," Aziraphale said, sounding too smart and put together for his own good. "You ought to say  _ I love you too _ because, if you recall, I said it first."

"Shut up," Crowley whined, "shut up, shut up!"

**Author's Note:**

> Very quick turn around on this one, and very few proof reads so my apologies for any errors! Hope it made you smile  
> I'm on tumblr with the same url


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